


That's the Thing About Birthdays, They're Kind of an Annual Thing

by peterpandesal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, HAPPY BIRTHDAY OIKAWA-SAN, I LOV U, M/M, U DORK, bc oikawa is just ???, big time, bruh, can u not, how did we get here from volleyball anime, i killed u, i'll try again next year???, i'm not one who typically swears but whoa the swearing i did here, it should be tagged as comedy, it sux, it's a little late but, lol??, only very slightly angsty, sorry iwa-chan, there are too many tags, this fic came out lighter than i expected, this is so wat, what the heck is that title???, why not??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpandesal/pseuds/peterpandesal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started when they were 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's the Thing About Birthdays, They're Kind of an Annual Thing

**Author's Note:**

> bc I wouldn't let my favorite(???) character's birthday pass without me commemorating it physically. just a word-vomit, i guess. expect erratum coming your way. i apologize beforehand.

* * *

_19._

There isn’t much left to expect now, nor does he count on it. His mom just called a while ago, asking him to come home, back to town, so they can celebrate there, but he reasons that he may be a little late, as he “still had some stuff to do.” He heard her sigh an audible sigh, but surprisingly she left him alone with only a, “Take your time, son.” In the quiet, he thanks God that she really did leave it like that. It hasn’t been too long yet. Although if he were to be utterly honest with himself, he would have to own that deep down, he harbors the fear that he will always remain like this.

He gets up from the bed, then; walks to the mirror tacked on the wall of his dorm room, and stares at his face—the face they, the people around him, and even he himself had always found beautiful; burgundy hair tousled upward that always protected his skull from the volleyballs he threw at him when he sprouted something nonsensical or when he spoke about his insecurities with a smile. He chuckles. Maybe he should find someone to do that for him now?

His thoughts are disturbed when something glows on the table with a vibrate. It’s a text message, and though he knows what it’s going to contain, he picks it up, and reads—

 _11:13_  
**From:** Kunimi Akira  
**Message Body:** _  
Happy birthday, Oikawa-san. I hope you have a good day._

He smiles thinly, and taps back, _Thank you, Kunimi-chan._

Kunimi doesn’t reply after that, but he understands. It’s pointless to prolong the conversation, anyway. And he knows that Kunimi wouldn’t go as far as attempting to give a word of upliftment; his kouhai had always been the aloof, somewhat lethargic type. He was like that in high school and he’s still probably like that now. He’s about to put the phone down, already fed up with birthday greetings, when he knows that the one he’s waiting for won’t come today. Not ever. Just then his phone vibrates again, three consecutive times, and he suspects that the senders may be gathered together right now.

 _11:15_  
**From:** Matsukawa Issei  
**Message Body:  
**_Oikawa! Happy birthday._  (It’s followed by a series of festive emojis that clearly didn’t reflect the emotion on Mattsun’s face when he typed it.) _Want us to come over?_

 _Thanks; it’s fine. I have some stuff to do anyway,_ he replies, and opens the one from Kindaichi.

 _11:15_  
**From** : Kindaichi Yuutaro  
**Message Body:**  
_Happy birthday, Oikawa-san. I hope you have a great day. Hanamaki-san says we should celebrate later this week; if it’s okay with you, that is…_

Oikawa replies before he opens the third message, _That’s a nice idea. I’ll see first, though._

He’s not wrong when he guesses the last one is from the aforementioned Hanamaki.

 _11:16_  
**From:** Hanamaki Takahiro  
**Message Body:**  
_Hey, you. Happy birthday. Is it really ‘happy’ though? Let’s go out. You’ve been holed up in there for too long. Hope you’re free later this week._

He tries to come up with some substantial excuse that could absolve him from any celebration. No, he couldn’t use the “I have a thing” excuse, he’s already used that for more than once, nor would they believe it; and certainly not the “my mom said no.” He’s grown way past that phase. So he settles for a mere, _Thanks, Makki. I’ll try._

And that’s it, he says to himself. He’s a people-person, but has only very few friends, and only those very few friends know that it’s his birthday today. Not that he minds. It doesn’t matter now, anyway. He stares down at his list of messages, and, as if in a trance, he opens the folder that he’s always kept in there. Even when he changed phones he made sure, that more than his contacts, he would transfer _them_ in the next phone he’d be using. It’s foolish to do, and half of him yells that he’s a moron for doing this now, of all days, but nonetheless he re-reads the four messages he’s always kept in a “special folder” on his phone.

 

_12._

As with every birthday, it ought to be celebrated, but this tradition started when they were in their freshman year of junior high.

“ _Two_ surprise parties in two years?” something about it must be so funny, Oikawa thinks, because Iwaizumi out-right laughs. “Man, that is rich,”

Oikawa pouts, lower lip jutting outward. “Why else would you be inviting me out for lunch? Isn’t there a surprise there prepared by you and the other neighborhood kids?”

Iwaizumi frowns, face contorted in both confusion and surprise, and throws the volleyball at him. “Flatter yourself much? I was just saying that we should play outside.”

“It’s my birthday! Don’t hurt me!” Oikawa whines, covering the back of his head with both hands. “So there’s no surprise party?”

“Not even a little, you dope.” Iwaizumi pulls him, then, and to the outdoors he’s dragged. They’ve just begun with their interest in volleyball around this time, and each time Oikawa fails to serve or toss, he gets a laugh from “Iwa-chan” as a reward.

Later that night, though, in the last hours of his birthday, his phone rings, and it’s a message from the only person outside his family that’s his contact.

 _21:17_  
**From** : Iwa-chan  
**Message Body** :

_Better late than never._

_Happy birthday, turd. I decided to give this little “birthday speech,” whatever, at this time because I know how you’d react if I told you this face to face. For my birthday wish for you I hope you start growing up now and I don’t mean in height; stop holding petty grudges against people, like that kid next door who wants to join us when we play. Give him a break, will you? And don’t give up on practicing volleyball. We promised each other that we’d get to the nationals, right? I’m sticking with you till that time comes because clearly no one else can and will. I’m with you every step of the way. Again, happy birthday, Oikawa Tooru._

Of course, the next day, “Iwa-chan” is attacked by an onslaught of hugs and kisses, which apparently makes the spiky-haired boy immensely uncomfortable, pushing him to strike a deal (as also on his head) with Oikawa.

“You’re gross,” Iwaizumi grimaces.

“But you’ll be with me ‘every step of the way,’ though!” Oikawa grins, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Iwa-chan’s ears turn pink, and says, “I’m doing that only every other year from now on. You’re disgusting,”

Oikawa pretends he didn’t hear anything; merely trots beside Iwaizumi on their way to school.

 

_13._

The next year he gives Iwaizumi an alien-head pillow for his birthday. “So you’ll feel like you’re still with me even in your dreams!” Oikawa claims heartily, to which Iwaizumi replies with a frown, though he could swear he could see stars hovering Oikawa. It’s that same year that Iwaizumi gives him a tracksuit for his birthday, simultaneously as he gives him his birthday milk bread.

(“Ugh, Iwa-chan is so stingy! Giving me milk bread instead of cake!”)

(“Tacky. You like milk bread, anyway.”)

(“What’s your birthday wish for me, Iwa-chan?”)

(Oikawa swears that Iwaizumi’s cheeks colored when he looks away. “Oh, please. The same still holds true now. I said no birthday speeches every other year.”)

 

_14._

He gets up from the bed, and grabs his wallet. He resolves to go out of his dorm for the first time in weeks.

He hails a bus back to his hometown in Miyagi, trying not to dwell on the thought on what he had planned to do once he was there. He decides to act on his feet; it’s not like this is a volleyball match where he’d observe first before making a definite move, and see how it goes. He looks out the window, sees the scenery zoom past him and thinks for a moment that he could have spent this trip with Iwa-chan. They would come home for today, his birthday, and celebrate there.

He smiles, and shakes his head slightly. He opens the second message.

 

“Shiratorizawa, huh…” Iwaizumi lays his back on the hard roof. For tonight Oikawa Tooru wants to see the stars and possibly an alien mothership along the way, if there’s any. “You sure you’re not enrolling there? I mean, they’re a powerhouse.”

Oikawa shoots him a genuinely annoyed look, and instantly Iwa-chan knows it was pointless to say that. “Why would I want to be teammates with my arch-nemesis?”

“I thought Kageyama is your arch-nemesis?”

The birthday boys stops in setting up the telescope, and mock-gasps. “Iwa-chan, how could you _say_ that? Tobio-chan is my _dear_ underclassman!”

‘Iwa-chan’ rolls his eyes. “Quit the act, Oikawa. There’s just the two of us here on this rooftop.”

And that’s when the soft, friendly expression vacates his face, usurped by the shadow of a smile and a pair of glinting eyes. _This_ is the Oikawa Tooru he knows. “Shiratorizawa is no joke, but Aoba Johsai isn’t that easy, either. _We’re_ not easy. Slowly but surely, we’ll meet them at the finals and make our way to the nationals.”

Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa, and for a moment he considers rewriting the message he’s about to send him, but cancels the thought. He smiles instead. “For a piece of trash, you’ve got a nasty pride. You know that?”

“Oh, I’ve heard.” Oikawa chuckles, but Iwa-chan doesn’t really know if it’s sarcastic or real, because Oikawa has peeked into the telescope. “Oh, it’s Mars! Look at this, Iwa-chan!”

“For real?” Iwaizumi gets up, and joins him there.  “Let me see?” he peers into the telescope, and stands up straight to smack Oikawa. “That’s just a regular star, you tool.”

“But it _looks_ like Mars! I swear, you can even see little aliens walking on it!”

It’s stupid no matter how one looks at it, but oddly enough, Iwaizumi isn’t at all surprised by the nonsense that rolls out of Oikawa’s tongue. No way in hell was that Mars, but for charity’s sake, he agrees when the birthday celebrant says, “Look at it again!” and indeed, Iwaizumi seconds, it _is_ Mars, though in truth he knows it isn’t, but he lets Oikawa have his way anyhow, even just for today.

The birthday boy requests that he sleep over for tonight, and Iwaizumi finds himself agreeing again. It was ridiculous how easily he’d get soft on him sometimes.

They’re sleeping side by side on futon, as if they’re seven years old again, and Iwa-chan is sound asleep with his back on him. He’s woken up half an hour ago and can’t go back to sleep, and so Oikawa checks his phone, suddenly remembering that Iwa-chan was supposed to give him a birthday speech for his birthday, which he absolutely didn’t.

It’s 02:03, he sees the time, but is more surprised by the message he received when he was dozing.

 

 _23:52_  
**From:** Iwa-chan  
**Message Body** :

_Oh, good. You’re asleep._

_It’s this time of the year again. Happy birthday, Oikawa. First off, don’t go hugging me after you read this message because I will end you. Anyway, I hope you had fun today seeing Mars through the telescope I’ve been earning for since last year. You better give me a refund if you break it. I hope those aliens you saw will come and get you._

_Oikawa, we’re 14 now and nearly in senior high; I wish that the determination I saw in you today will last till the day of our dream of going to the nationals comes true. I know you feel frustrated sometimes, and even jealous of Kageyama, but know this: you’re one of the best players I know and you bring out the best of everyone in the team. They’d agree with me. Soon we’ll meet Ushiwaka again but I promise you, this time we’ll kick his ass. I already told you this, but I’m gonna say it again: I’m with you every step of the way._

_That’s all. Happy birthday._

Actual tears well up in his eyes, and he resists the urge to squeal right then and there. Oikawa rolls closer to Iwaizumi and rubs his nose on his best friend’s back, and whispers, “Thank you, Iwa-chan.”

He’s oblivious, though, to Iwaizumi’s conflicted face warming in the dark.

 

_15._

Their little world expands by two people when they meet Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro in Senior High. It’s that year when Iwaizumi finally finds helpers in arranging a surprise party, which “Mattsun” and “Makki” are immensely surprised about.

“ _Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,_ ” they’re all about giggles and stifled laughter as they guide a blindfolded Oikawa into the vacated classroom, pre-volleyball club practice time.

“Ah, you guys! I’m scared!” the birthday boy whines as he’s ushered by Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“Quit yapping, you child,” he hears Iwaizumi’s voice and that’s when he’s relieved. They unravel the blindfold and the first thing that dawns on Oikawa is that the room is darker than it should be, that there is a tiny candle perched atop a cake, and that there’s Iwa-chan with a tilted head and a smirk holding it.

He doesn’t move for more than ten seconds; just looks at Iwa-chan blankly, his expression neutral.

Makki waves a hand in front of the setter’s face but the latter does not even blink. “Oikawa’s not breathing.”

Oikawa’s eyes shine and suddenly there’s a torrent of tears streaming down his face, while his mouth is fashioned in a wiggled ‘O’ shape. “I-Iwa-chan…”

“Oi, don’t cry—”

“Iwa-chaaaaan!” Oikawa practically yells as he weeps, and spreads his arms. Iwa-chan, well-knowing what the birthday celebrant is going to do next, in a fit of panic throws the cake at Oikawa Tooru’s face.

“This is absolutely _not_ how I pictured this party would go inside my head.” Matsukawa mumbles, eyes widened.

A dead kind of silence hangs in the air for several seconds, and Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to do.

The cake slides down Oikawa’s face eventually, and there’s the candle stuck on his cheek.

“Pfft—” Makki covers his mouth, just as a snort escapes from the back of his nose. But it explodes into real laughter, and he’s joined by Mattsun, with Iwaizumi spending half a mind telling them to _stop it, this is a disaster_ , but as per usual Oikawa receives the bullying like a sport.

The next thing he does _utterly_ catches him off-guard.

Suddenly a pair of hands coats his ears, and then he’s kissed on the cheek, not once, but _twice_ , and the next thing he knows is that there’s something gooey on his face and Oikawa is laughing.

“Now we’re even!” the setter’s shoulders jerk up and down, his hands still on his ears. “Thank you for the surprise, Iwa-chan!”

“Y-yeah…happy birthday, Trashykawa.” To this day Oikawa still doesn’t know about the blood rushing to Iwaizumi’s face that moment.

 

_16._

A crease develops between Oikawa’s brows as he looks at Iwa-chan, Mattsun, and Makki, who're looking at him with hopeful smiles on their faces.

“What?”

“Happy birthday, captain.”

He considers for a moment that he’d faint. But Iwaizumi has already pulled him to the direction of their street, and the other two wave their hands as they walk home.

“What…”

“You heard ‘em,” Iwaizumi says as he drags the Aoba Johsai setter with him. “You’re prospect for captainship. The only one, actually.”

He blinks, still not believing what he just heard. “But…?”

“You know what I told you before, right? When we were 14.”

Oikawa looks down on the concrete he’s treading, and the next time he lifts his head, a chuckle escapes him. Iwaizumi glances at him. “Say, Iwa-chan, what cheesy speech have you prepared for me today?” instantly, he gets smacked on the back with a bag.

“I’m not sending you any,” Iwaizumi walks ahead of him.

“Oh, but I’ve been waiting for this for months!”

“Shut up.”

“Iwa-chan! Are you finally confessing how much you love me?”

Iwaizumi stops dead in his tracks; Oikawa lags a step behind. “Iwa-chan?”

Slowly, Iwaizumi turns his head, a shadow hovering his eyes.

“Okay, okay! Sorry, sorry!”

“Walk faster. Anyway, make sure you don’t stay up late tonight; practice is early tomorrow.”

“Iwa-chan, are you my mom?”

“Bitch, I might be.”

It proves false, though, when later that night, just before bedtime, he receives a text message, and whom should it come from but the one, the only, Iwa-chan.

 

 _23:46_  
**From:** Iwa-chan  
**Message Body:**

_I don’t even know why I still do this when I think everything I say just gets dodged by you. Anyway, happy 16 th birthday, Oikawa. I think it’s pointless to wish you good health or anything good since, honestly, you already have them all. Probably why all those girls come chasing after you like you’re a god or something. I pity them. How little they know about you. I won’t say anything cheesy because you’re going to use them against me when we turn 18._

_I will say this though: our last year in Seijou is right around the corner. For real this time—we’ll kick Ushiwaka’s ass. But come what may, don’t ever think you’re any less than the best because unlike him, you make the team a cohesive unit, not a group of people that serves as your stage where you come out as a surperstar. That’s what it looks like for some people, but you’re famous only because you’re goddamn good-looking aside from being skilled. Don’t get it all in your head, Shittykawa._

_I’ll be with you every step of the way. Happy birthday, captain._

“Ah,” Oikawa chuckles as he sits on his bed, internally trying to conceal the fact that somewhat, it sounds— _reads_ better when Iwa-chan says it. “Iwa-chan is so _tsundere_ ,”

 

_17._

He opens his eyes and realizes he’s fallen asleep dreaming of these events. Good thing, the bus has stopped in Miyagi and he gets down, and instead of going straight home to his mother, he heads somewhere else.

He heaves a breath before pressing the door bell, well knowing what lies beyond the threshold he would cross. This is it. This is how everything has come to be.

The door clicks open, and a woman meets him. “There you are, Oikawa-kun. Welcome. We’ve been expecting you,”

 _As they well should_ , he thinks, as he bows with a small smile and a permission of “Pardon the intrusion.” Once inside, he immediately feels how deserted the place already is, with the absence of one. But he doesn’t have time to dwell on that. He needs to hurry.

“Oikawa-kun, would you kindly wait in Hajime’s room, please? I’m sure he won’t mind,” Mrs. Iwaizumi says to him, warm but cautious at the same time. immediately his insides scream that _no he doesn’t want to; that’s the worst thing she could ask of him right now_ but he agrees, anyway, and with legs feeling like lead, he forces himself to ascend the small flight of stairs to his best friend’s room.

Everything, he presumes, is the way Iwa-chan had left it: his bed made; a poster tacked on the wall next to his closet; a few old textbooks that were never put to use again filed neatly on the shelf next to his table. He imagines a phantom version of his best friend, cleaning up his room before leaving for university, making sure that should dust gather up on the remains of his youth, at least the said remains would be in a tidy arrangement. Oikawa smiles at the thought. This is kind of ironic since Iwa-chan was sort of a slob back at the dorm, and he knows that, for although they were not roommates, he always paid him a visit. Every day without fail, Iwa-chan would tell him to “go away,” because “he was studying.” But then maybe it _was_ because of that frequent studying that led him to neglect the cleanliness of his room.

The bed’s springs squeak minimally when he sits on it. A very thin layer of dust has gathered on the surface of the bed sheet, and Oikawa taps it lightly; the dust curls up in the air with thirteen o’clock sunlight illuminating it. He wonders how old that dust has been.  Then something green from the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he smirks.

 

“But I thought you said gifts are tacky, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa looks at him innocently, looking at the gift with a bow on it in his hand.

“I said that so you’d stop demanding with the ridiculous items on your wish list,” Iwaizumi frowns at him. They’re in the midst of practice, in preparation for the incoming tournament. “So, are you taking it or not?”

Oikawa opens the gift carefully, and with both arms raised, looks at the shirt with the drawing of an alien on it. “Iwa-chan!!!”

“Please don’t.”

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” Oikawa embraces it to his sweaty chest and face. “I love it!!! Thank you, Iwa-chan!!!”

“Strangely it resembles the alien pillow on your bed when we came to your house that one time.” Mattsun mentions as he stops beside Iwaizumi, chugging water from his tumbler.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi smiles at the gushing Oikawa seated on the floor. “Yeah it does.”

 

_18._

 “Here, Oikawa-kun,” His mother lays down a tray of tea on  Iwaizumi Hajime’s old study table, and offers him a cup.

“Thank you, Oba-san.”

“You’re welcome dear,” he takes a sip of the tea obediently and it drives him conscious that his mother is looking at him with a fond look.

“Is…is there something on my face?”

Mrs. Iwaizumi laughs. “Oh, no. I just…want to ask you how you’ve been.”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he felt a pricking feeling stab him in the sternum. “I should be the one asking you that, Oba-san. I came here to check up on you, too.” It’s only half-true, though.

His mother heaves a long sigh and settles beside him. “It has never been easy. My only hope is that it will hurt less as time goes by because I know Hajime wouldn’t like seeing me like this.”

For a moment he imagines that those words are addressed towards him.

“After all, it hasn’t been that long, so sometimes I still find myself waking up crying in the middle of the night.”

Oikawa smiles a little smile. “I’ve been like that too,” he figures that this is what grief does: it brings people together. “Can I ask something, Oba-san?”

“Anything, dear.”

“When Iwa-chan got into that accident…where was he going?”

His mother looks at the door with a dreamy expression on her face. “Don’t end up loathing yourself for whatever I’m going to say next, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Well, he was looking for a gift for you.”

Oikawa feels like he’s been punched between the eyes. “F-for…me?”

“Yes. It’s almost queer, isn’t it? How one is taken away when we least expect them to depart from our lives.”

He can’t breathe. “ _W-why_?”

Mrs. Iwaizumi smiles, though he can imagine how much it must be eating her. “Well, it was twenty days after his birthday and twenty days before yours. He called me up that day, saying that ‘good gifts don’t find themselves overnight,’ so it was better that he’d look for one in advance. It was a free day for him, but I think he loved you very much that he prepared for your birthday like it was the day next.”

It’s when Mrs. Iwaizumi embraces him does he realize that he’s been shaking vigorously, and his throat starts to tighten. “Happy birthday, Oikawa-kun. Live a good life for yourself and for Hajime,” she says to him with voice cracked, as if he were her own son. She moves to exit, but stops before she closes the door. “Take what you’d like to keep for yourself, Oikawa-kun. And, I should say…Hajime keeps a journal in the drawer of his study table.” The door closes with a click, and the silence deafens him.

It takes him a while before he gets his body moving. He opens the said drawer and sees a black faux-leather notebook about the size of his palm.

He gives up the instant he sees the lock on the side.

“For crying out loud, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughs, snot dribbling down the tip of his nose. “The last thing of you that I’m left with, and I still have to work on it?” and so he stands, wipes his face, arms himself with the journal and the alien head pillow, and bids Mrs. Iwaizumi goodbye.

Tooru is enveloped in her mother’s comforting hugs and kisses and attempts to propose a proper birthday celebration, but her son politely declines with a, “It’s fine; let me just go to my room.”

 

_22:10_

**From:** Iwa-chan  
**Message Body:**

_Happy 18 th birthday, nerd._

_Another birthday speech. Guess this has been routine now. A routine that happens only every other year. I’m keeping this short because I know you’re going to hunt me down tomorrow just to say your gross feedback. Oikawa, I know things didn’t go the way we planned them to be. But everything is far from over. Our volleyball career isn’t over. There’s still the collegiate level anyway so and let’s do things just like we’ve always had. Like I said I’m with you every step of the way._

_Your “worthless pride”? Hold onto it tight, and maybe one day you’ll see it the way I do—it’s that pride that makes you who you are: an incredibly talented piece of shit. And I’m going to say this now, something that never in a million years I’ll tell you face to face: I’m glad to be one of the people who spike your toss._

_Dammit, that sounded better in my head. Whatever. Happy birthday, Oikawa._

_13, 15, 17._

His mother is baffled when he takes a hammer up to his room. “Tooru, what are you _doing_?”

He succeeds a smile, with an ‘okay’ sign of the hand. “I’m not _that_ depressed, mom.”

The lock cracks open when he breaks it with the hammer.

Now that he’s opened it, he doesn’t really know what to expect. What could the journal of an Iwaizumi Hajime contain? He doesn’t seem to be the sentimental type except on special occasions (e.g. Oikawa Tooru’s birthday). What could be in there? How the volleyball practice match went for the day? Surprisingly poetic compositions that didn’t seem to reconcile with his character? Writings about his marvelous best friend, Oikawa Tooru?

He laughs at the last choice. Iwaizumi has always told him what he thinks of him. So he nonchalantly skims through the pages as much as he can, trying not to expect too much from a boring guy.

It comes knocking him off his feet, though, when he discovers that there _are_ some content that are about him.

_“Oikawa’s 13 th birthday. Bought him milk bread because cakes are tacky, and because I wasn’t able to save enough for both a cake and that telescope. Good thing he didn’t complain.”_

_“Dear Oikawa Tooru,_

_You’re a fucking piece of shit. You’re already 15 but you still clearly don’t know the meaning of personal space. I let it slide because it’s your birthday. Don’t do that to me ever again. I will fucking end you and these feelings.”_

_“Today, on your 17 th birthday, I almost tipped over. I gave you a shirt with an alien on it and you seemed delighted, which I’m glad about. It’s amazing how easily delighted you are by some things yet you’ve always had that dark side of you. You’re the most annoying person ever yet I’m here sticking with you like this could benefit me. I’m still here, having stood beside you at your worst and your best, your plastic smiles and your genuine ones because I guess it sucks this much when you’re in love with your best friend and can’t do anything about it. I write these here because I’ve made that vow with you that you’ll only get a speech from me every other year. Well here’s the birthday speech I’m never going to tell you: happy birthday, you little shit. You’re fucking perfect to me.”_

 

“Tooru?” his mother comes in to his room right after knocking. “Dear Lord, why are you _crying_?”

“It’s nothing!” he frantically wipes his face, drawing away from his mother’s hug. “It’s just…”

“Iwa-chan?” his mother reflects the sad expression on his face.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just…my first time celebrating my birthday without him.”

There’s a sorry look in her eyes, and it remains there when she offers him a box. “This came in the mail today,”

“From?” he looks down on the package. “Oh. Oh my god.”

Mrs. Oikawa kisses her son’s forehead, knowing well that her presence speaks volumes more than her words ever can.

“But I thought…”

“It happened after he had asked them to mail it.” His mother stands up, and exits, hoping that by tomorrow and the following days, the sorrow will become less and less, and fond memories will overshadow the tragedy.

 

 _To being with you every step of the way. Literally_.

_Happy birthday, Oikawa Tooru._

 

He reads the card, and he’s all tears, snot, sobs and laughter when he sees the pair of shoes with little alien drawings on it. He curls up on the floor, hugging the gift to his chest, because even to the last minute he didn’t let him down. “I love it, Iwa-chan. Thank you, _thank you_.”

 

_20._

He sees the clock and reads _23:27._ Grabbing his phone, he composes a new message, and sends it to a number that’s never been used again.


End file.
